The Baddest Witch In Town
by littlexkiller
Summary: AHS: Coven AU. When Violet and Zoe arrive at Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies, everything goes awry. A lifelong friendship goes sour, the empty promise of romance, and the uncharted waters of their own powers. Language warning.
1. Sacrifice Me

_**A/N: So after a few months of hunting for writing inspiration, I found it in the American Horror Story section of this website and thus, make my AHS debut. It was a matter of time, given the nature of my other fics. ****This is mildly AU in the sense that 1) Violet is in it, the fine piece of human she is, 2) Zoe never killed anyone, both girls attend the school out of free will, as does Kyle, who I will introduce is the person as I think he should've been, and 3) Violet (obviously) moved out of the Murder House and survived, even if the trip made her mildly OOC and slightly more lethal than her original portrayal. But still Violet. ****As a side note, the character listed above every section is the central focus of that section, but I don't feel as though first person would suit this story very well.**** Tuck in, my loves.**_

* * *

><p><em>Zoe Benson<em>

They were always going to be best friends. Even Zoe, who usually struggled in that particular department of human interaction, understood her connection with Violet. The older girl sped them across the highway in her powdery blue Cadillac, top down, wind in their hair, cigarette being passed between them at regular intervals. And that was exactly who they were, right there. Always breaking at least three laws to the heavy chaos of Nirvana at seriously uncomfortable volumes. Zoe may have been the shy one of the dynamic duo, but that didn't mean the girl couldn't kick it with the best of them. _The best of them being Violet_, she realised with an internal sigh as her friend took another swig from her off-silver flask and rested her hand on the wheel that was steering them to their new school. Violet always had to be more badass than the rebel posers at the shit-hole they used to call a place for education. Always had older, more obscure vinyls. Always dressed grungier, punched harder, joked dirtier, smoked more and drank more, if that were possible among their kind of crowd.

The kids at Westfield, Zoe had decided, were nice enough. They just didn't happen to be very interesting. She was just glad to have caught the ride along on the tidal wave that was her best friend. They continued like that until reaching the neighbourhood of their destination, belting lyrics to songs nobody else knew, sharing a smoke and thinking of bad puns surrounding their darkest secret and greatest advantage – they were born into a long, long line of Salem witches. Their families had been intertwined like affectionate trees across centuries. Generations and generations of friends, shared clothes, shared secrets, shared bottles of nameless whatever to keep the vulnerability away.

The sun was high in the sky when Violet slid them crookedly into a parking space (more like two, after all that flask-sipping. Zoe really had to ask whatever it was her fellow witch was always drinking). She was buzzed, that much Zoe could tell. Violet was practically bouncing across the gravel, the long trail of her lacy black dress flowing behind her in the breeze while Zoe took lots of tiny steps to keep up with her, clutching an enormous overnight Chanel bag her parents had insisted she buy to 'keep with the family standards, as opposed to whatever awful gothic middle-class nonsense that friend of hers had been covering her with.'

There was a bronze plaque on top of the gates proudly stating 'Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies' and whatever the undoubtedly awe-inspiring Latin motto was. But the academy itself was, for lack of better adjectives, colossal; it looked like it was deeply haunted and in need of a serious décor update from this century. Just the way they liked it. She raised her delicate wrist use the knocker on the imposingly large and heavy white doors with polished brass knobs, but Violet just kicked it open with an air of slight annoyance, luggage in both hands swinging, like she'd lived there for years and forgotten her keys again. A crooked smile pulled at Zoe's mouth, because that was typical Violet, really. Saying she'd take the house she'd lived in like her parents weren't even there. Falling in love with murderers. Driving the fuck out of that house with all her belongings stuffed in the trunk on Halloween when she realised that everyone she loved was dead or halfway there, drowning reality in the bottom of glass bottles and carefully separated lines of cocaine on hotel coffee tables. And finally, striding onto their new boarding school grounds like she owned the goddamn place. But it was a beautiful building, no less lonely and lacking of any real colour than they had wanted it be. The main hall was full of sharp white furniture, silver photo frames of stern-looking women they didn't know yet, chandeliers more expensive than a small house and – three girls in African voodoo ritual masks and black robes that draped to the floor. Stalking towards them, silent and inevitable like death itself. Zoe's heart nearly stopped as Violet dropped everything and yelled "Hey!" They kept walking, unaffected.

"You bitches can go mess with someone else. We might be the new kids, but that doesn't mean I won't wipe the floor with your sorry asses."

They didn't seem to hear her as the girls suddenly realised that they could no longer utilise the ability of speech. To make any noise at all. The masked ones pinned them down to the table, silent, and pressed a large sickle to Zoe's throat. She drew in a sharp breath and squeezed her eyes shut, willing them to just sacrifice her or whatever already, when they took off their masks to reveal beautiful, shining faces and burst out laughing. Their unmasked persons revealed one huge blonde ego, one small brunette troublemaker and two hundred pounds of sass in glossy ebony skin beside them. Violet immediately slid off the table less than gracefully, knees thudding the floor before hauling herself up, giving them the death stare.

"That... that..." she panted, "that was just unfair. You can't just... you can't _mute_ people like that, you can't."

They still weren't listening, whispering to each other, tears of mirth streaming down their faces. Finally the tall, leggy blonde stepped out in her shiny Jimmy Choo stilettos and offered her perfectly manicured hand. "I'm Madison," she stated, nose in the air like she was accepting the fact that yes, her name was Madison, Madison Montgomery, and yes, she was a goddamn movie star. Violet hated her already, but Zoe just smiled a little smile out of the polite wish to not antagonise the person with the power to make their tongues a humble piece of meat and shook the extended hand, choosing to ignore Violet's glare burning a hole in her own loose black satin dress.

"I'm Zoe Benson," she mumbled half-heartedly, stepping back to the safety zone by her best friend's side.

"Yeah," the older witch spat, "and I'm Violet Harmon. Surprise, motherfucker, you've got a Harmon legacy in your little haunted mansion. Go tell that to your fancy-ass Priestess."

And with that, she spun on her heel and dragged Zoe with her, who shuffled behind reluctantly. "Violet, that wasn't nice," she reminded her friend softly, and after receiving a big eye-roll in response, she smiled apologetically at Madison Montgomery and the girls standing beside her. The blonde waved it off with a matching eye-roll and gestured at the stairs with an irritated expression.

The cause for irritation was quite simple. It wasn't actually that Madison hadn't managed to get the last word, or that she was pissed off by the mere sight of a nervous Zoe, it was the fact that she knew exactly what having a Harmon meant. She wasn't going to be the star anymore. That alone made her huff with jealousy when she stomped idly up to Cordelia's office and bluntly informed her that the new students had arrived. To her internal dismay, Mrs. Foxx jumped up in delight, pushing her flowing blonde hair over one shoulder and smiled as she made her way down the stairs with a strongly disillusioned Madison by her side. _The crack__pot __bitch__ was never that excited for us_, she though bitterly.

"We're so glad to have another Harmon in our house. Your great-great-grandmother was one of the founding members of the Salem Coven," Cordelia said brightly, shaking Violet's hand with enough exuberance to jolt the dead back to life. The beginner witch grinned at that thought; ironic, considering the nature of the headmistress' work.

"And I'm sure you're a lovely and very talented young lady," Cordelia continued with a professional smile, shaking Zoe's hand with remarkably less enthusiasm, but politely nonetheless. That was how it always was. Wow Violet, look at Violet, hey everyone it's Violet! Unwittingly grabbing the centre of attention anywhere and everywhere. _Not anymore she isn't,_ Zoe decided bitterly, grinding her teeth. _Not anymore_.


	2. Turn The Tables Of Time

_**A/N: This fic, in strong contrast to others based primarily in the Coven setting, actually includes real witchcraft and Wiccan practices as according to my knowledge and experience with them. Something that irked me a little while I watched the show is that certain branches of magic weren't fully learned, especially things like pyrokinesis which I seriously doubt Madison, despite her evident natural ability, would somehow be able to do all of a sudden.**__**My depictions should be accurate, but feel free to correct and suggest as you will. On another note, we learn a lot more about who the girls **__**really**__** are.**__** Enjoy my cynicism!**_

* * *

><p><em>Zoe Benson<em>

Zoe mostly liked the book _Looking for Alaska _by John Green. Liked it, because she could relate with Pudge, that she was a drizzle and Violet a hurricane. And mostly, because Mr. Green had failed to not make character death a half-hearted plot device. But you can't get everything you want in life. Zoe of all people knew that. She was great in the house of the extraordinary, interesting in the company of the positively beguiling and pretty amongst the stunning. Drizzle.

She liked her room with Violet, though, and not just mostly. It was beautiful. Blank white walls waiting patiently to be covered in 90's grunge band posters, a chandelier straight out of the nineteenth century, polished pine floorboards, and most importantly – all the furniture was black. Sheets, rugs, tablecloth, candelabras and lanterns, all jet black like the night. The wet dream of their internal interior designers.

"So," Zoe began, taking a long drag from her cigarette, "what do you think we'll be studying?"

Violet shrugged and replied, "We've still gotta check our timetables."

They snatched their leather-bound Book of Shadows off the desk with excitement, opening to the timetable page. "Witches In History," they both read aloud with dismay.

"Yuck," Zoe commented.

"Yuck indeed."

"Oh but I have Elemental Magic on Wednesday!"

"Screw you, dude! I got Clairaudience," Violet finished in a whining tone. "But that's better than hearing actual voices, huh?"

Zoe smacked her friend in the arm playfully, as she was a decent clairaudient herself.

After numerous squeals of excitement and grunts of frustration, they established that they had only two classes other than Witches In History together – Kinesis and Spellcraft.

"Why, oh why must the Universe keep us apart," Violet moaned with mock despair, throwing a heavily scarred wrist over her forehead. Zoe smirked before her expression went dark with foreboding.

"Because girls like us can't stay together forever," she replied seriously. Violet shot up on the black love seat she was currently occupying, eyes wide with confusion.

"Shit, okay Miss Cynicism," Violet replied apprehensively, eyeing her. "But for the record, I'm meant to be the depressing one here."

They dissolved into knowing laughter, but both of them were still wary of the other.

The whimsical sing-song voice of Myrtle Snow teaching-slash-singing of history which had witches inside it lulled Zoe into a contemplative haze. After a while, not even the unapologetically gravity-defying cloud of shocking red hair on her teacher's head could make her focus on why Misty Day was so damn esoterically important. Resting her delicate, pointy chin on the palm of her hand, she considered her past friendship with Violet Harmon.

Violet used to be one of the girls. Her younger self had had tea parties and neatly stacked Taylor Swift albums and boy's names outlined in purple hearts in her pink notebook with 'I'm not like the other girls' across the front in attractive font. Which was, of course, the most ironic thing. The minute she turned ten and started listening to Audioslave, it was like all of a sudden she had to try harder than everyone else to fit in, to blend in, but of course she couldn't, not when she was trying so desperately to be 'not like the other girls.' Zoe never argued with her that _no, maybe you've just invented this big fake fucking personality so people will think you're special. Because your father didn't seem to think so when he left you, and your mother didn't seem to think so when you thought you were too cool for red lipstick and by that time next year you'd bought three tubes of it in infinitesimally different shades. _No. The Zoe everyone knew would never say something like that. She was too nice, too shy, too docile-and-domesticated. Like a kitten desperate for a home. And she let them, because it was so much easier to be the pretty little girl wrapped in Versace and Schiaparelli than to be the binge-drinking sass queen she only ever got to indulge in smaller doses than Violet's fortnightly drug conquests. Violet, of course, thought it was just the vodka working too fast in her friend's petite little upper class girl body, but what she didn't realise was _it was the vodka_. When else would Zoe's walls come down? When else would the inseparable pair actually trust each other to understand who was actually who in the relationship? After the damage of vodka arrives, as Kendrick Lamar would put it. And after the hangover hits just a little too hard, the world spinning so fast they swore it felt like they'd never had a hangover this bad before, they both returned to pretending that no one was pretending.

* * *

><p><em>Violet Harmon<em>

"So naturally, dears, when Misty Day fell in love with that particular young warlock, she had in that instant granted him immortality. One hell of a wedding gift, if I may say so myself. Young love, sweethearts. It really does conquer all."

A pleasant bell was rung from the top of the staircase and the girls started picking up their pens and grimoires, preparing for whatever adventure the next class led them to. Violet raced down the stairwell after Zoe, nudging her best friend in the ribs.

"Hey, what do you have next?" she asked, pushing pin-straight dyed black hair behind one ear.

Zoe shrugged and mumbled, "Oh, I've got Psi."

Her friend was always shrugging. Always 'oh', like the universe was one big, sad, disappointing surprise. And then Violet was gone, no longer having an excuse to talk to her. Something about that triggered the heavy weight of sadness in her stomach as she shuffled across the hall to wherever the headmistress was going to teach her what the word 'psi' actually meant.

Their first week passed in a similar fashion to that first day, no one speaking to them, no one taking notice. And for once, Violet didn't cause a scene about struggling to fit in. She let it happen, because she was the monster of her own creation.

Disillusionment about their time at Miss Robichaux's set in quickly. Zoe began to abandon hope that she would ever have some staggeringly significant epiphany that would free her from her own shackles made of peer pressure and self-labelling, and Violet forgot what it was like to hear a voice other than her own or a teacher's.

* * *

><p><em>Madison Montgomery<em>

Madison, funnily enough, realised something outside of her own larger-than-life existence. She actually had a lot in common with Violet. They were both blonde, the kind of thin other girls cry over, had fake personalities built on a wish to be loved, and the real kicker – they were both incredibly powerful witches, Violet perhaps even more so. And the thought alone of there being a witch more talented than her made her wobble in her high-heeled Chanel boots. So right then and there, in the solitude of her boyband-covered room, she decided that all of the best takedowns in history were insidious; therefore an unsuspecting Violet was going to get a new best friend.


	3. Be Mine

_**A/N: Welcome to the third chapter of TBWIT ya'll. Here we get a wee taste of witchcraft in the classroom, plus a new character! Continuing in objective first person; it puts the focus on a character without it being all 'I did this/I did that'. Doesn't suit this story. It's about the coven. Enjoy my loves.**_

* * *

><p><em>Zoe Benson<em>

As hard as Zoe tried, she couldn't get the pencil to move. She'd done everything she was supposed to – she believed really, really, really hard that she could do it, she connected with the pencil's energy, she visualised it moving in various different ways, even considered blowing it across the ancient mahogany table and claiming it to be her own doing. But while Violet, Madison, Nan and Queenie could so easily roll it across the length of their working space and spin it in dizzying circles, Zoe's refused to move an inch.

"Hey noob, did someone curse your pencil or are you just that new?" Madison taunted snidely, rolling her pencil in smug circles towards Zoe. Violet frowned at the blonde but said nothing to defend her friend.

"Leave me alone," murmured Zoe unhappily.

"I'm sorry, what was that noob?" Madison replied, turning to snigger at her with Nan.

"I said, _leave me alone you stupid bitch_!"

The class stared at Zoe in shocked silence. Madison shifted her weight uncomfortably and rolled her eyes.

"Jesus," she muttered under her breath, "go eat lavender root or something."

A wave of regret went through her as she recalled her goal to befriend Violet, realising in order to do that she had to at the very least not antagonise Violet's best friend.

Madison never bothered Zoe again.

The first and second year Kinesis classes were just descending the stairs to take the first break of the day when Myrtle Snow in all her fiery-red glory glided across the marble tiles to meet them, arms raised in nothing short of a worshipful stance.

"Darlings," she purred in her polished British accent, "there is a new student among us. A delightful young warlock by the name of Kyle Spencer. He has joined us in favour of his college scholarship, choosing to abandon his _precious_ fraternity Kappa Lambda Gamma..."

All five girls had already tuned out, instead ogling at the chiseled-from-stone blonde boy smiling nervously before them. Kyle tucked his thumbs into the holes of his sweater and gave Nan a little wave that made her knees buckle beneath her. The girls knew that those with magic were so rarely anything but gorgeous, but the miracle of nature standing before them had quite changed the aesthetic game.

"I will guide him to his room now, and I don't want to see or hear hanky-panky from any of you in the future, is that understood?" Myrtle demanded, and the girls nodded dumbly, murmuring agreement.

The second he was up the stairs, they burst into conversation.

"Oh my _Goddess_, he's a piece of work. I could climb those biceps like a tree." Madison burst.

"I want him for dessert," Queenie agreed.

"He is so mine," Nan replied.

There was a brief pause, as no one wanted to tell a clairvoyant second-year witch with Down syndrome that Kyle wouldn't necessarily fall in love with her at first sight.

"Yeah, he ain't half bad," Violet admitted with a smile, mostly to break the silence but also because he was undeniably attractive and she had a thing for blonde boys.

"No shit, Violet," smirked Zoe. The girls laughed together in a rare display of unity.

* * *

><p><em>Madison Montgomery<em>

It could be said that Kyle was the only topic of study in Elemental Magic the next day. Madison had chosen to completely disregard the unlit red candle in front of her and instead knocked her spellbook into his lap.

"Oops, sorry," she purred in low tones, deliberately brushing her fingers against his thigh as she picked the heavy book off of him. To her surprise, it didn't seem to have the usual effect. In fact, it didn't seem to have any effect at all.

"It's okay. It was an accident," Kyle replied with a small smile, seemingly oblivious to her intentions.

"Of-fucking-course he's innocent as an elementary schooler," Madison muttered under her breath before she frowned at the candle in front of her, channelling her frustration into tall, angry flames. Cordelia beamed at her new-found pyrokinetic ability.

"Well done, Madison! Look class, Madison's mastered The Dancing Flame exercise!" the headmistress gushed.

Ordinarily Madison would be prideful about her numerous successes, flaunting her abilities to the others, but she was just irritated. _The Universe has a sick sense of humor_, she thought bitterly, _the only boy worth a damn in this whole God-forsaken city probably hasn't grown a pair yet. I mean, is he blind or something?_

But that was too bad, she decided. Boys like him who didn't know how to please a woman didn't deserve her attention anyway.

He might have been naïve to Madison's failed attempts at seduction, but he was one hell of a magical practitioner. Kyle, despite his hollow-head Hollywood looks and disarming grin, had earned his engineering scholarship at Tulane fair and square. He quickly found ways to manipulate and channel his energy into objects to do things even Cordelia and Misty had never seen before, tapping into the potential of every object and challenge placed before him with unprecedented skill. Violet had tried to ignore his little 'accidental' bumps and dry humour, the twinkle in his eyes when he opened the door for her and Zoe and no one else, but not even they were immune to his witty charm.

* * *

><p><em>Violet Harmon<em>

She tried to ignore him, she really did. Violet, the 'Queen of Darkness' as appointed by a suddenly affectionate Madison, wanted to be on Kyle's to-do list. More badly than she wanted to admit, even to Nan, who already knew but pretended to be surprised for Violet's cathartic benefit. The small brunette was polite like that; she at least pretended that she couldn't hear every whisper of thought that ran through your brain.

He waited for her at the bottom of the stairwell, expression solemn, no hint of the glow in his dark eyes. Violet liked him better that way; when all the classic Hollywood glamour and the perfectly-groomed hair was ruffled away by frustrated hands and concentration on whatever he was working on, his eyes vicious black holes full of bitter determination. When his jaw muscles flexed subconsciously as he grinded his teeth with effort, shifting a little, like if he just moved a few centimetres to the left the spell would suddenly work.

She ignored the flutter of nerves and emotion in her stomach, arranging her face to display aloof confidence and lifting her chin slightly.

"What desire hath the golden child of witchcraft to speak to me?" smirked Violet, crossing her arms with a forced casual attitude.

* * *

><p><em>Kyle Spencer<em>

His own smirk held the power to nearly wipe hers clean off her lips, alongside other things he wanted to do to her lips... Kyle shook the thoughts away, feeling heat rising to his cheeks.

"I wanted to ask you something," he told her, voice awash in curiousity, watching the heat rise to her own cheeks.

"Y-yeah?" Violet asked unsteadily, digging her nails into her arms as if to ground herself.

_Come on, you big doofus. Think about why you want might want to talk to her. Spells, candles... No you have plenty of those, and you're the best goddamn practitioner in the place. Be attractive, be charming... Woo her._

"Well, Violet, I was wondering why you blush every time I look at you. Thought it might be, like, residual heat energy. If it is, I'm sorry. I'll try not to be too hot," he quipped with his best crooked smile.

The young warlock watched as she gritted her teeth, satisfied with the effect his words had on her.

"You're a goddamn narcissistic bastard, you know that?" Violet scolded, but there was a decided lack of venom in her tone, her voice dominated by playfulness.

He knew, right then and there, that he had Violet Harmon by her studded leather collar.


	4. It's Your Move

_**A/N: Welcome to chapter four of TBWIT, lovelies. Last chapter, there was some serial Kyle cuteness to a criminal degree that will be continued here. Obviously we didn't get a whole lot of personality from him in Coven, so I took some inspiration from Jimmy Darling in Freak Show. Just enough to make him a person. **_

_**So at this point we have learned that you don't fuck with Zoe Benson, that Violet's a total shrinking violet on the inside (there is no shame in bad puns, guys) and that as much as we hate Madison, she's kind of a genius. An evil, bitchy genius with too much money and hair extensions. Speaking of extensions, there's a second author's note at the end. **_

_**(How's that for a segu**__**é**__**!)**_

* * *

><p><em>Zoe Benson<em>

Zoe huffed, blowing the lock of shiny chestnut blonde hair obscuring her vision off her face so she could better see the dim LED of her laptop monitor.

**Kinesis of any kind is simply impossible**, the author of the article had written.

**For one to believe they can move something without physically touching it is moronic. To the witches that believe it possible to harness the energy of the elements and control them – the elements exist outside your little bubble of self-entitled powers. It's not scientifically possible, not even with our heightened abilities. No sacrifice to a figment of your imagination is going to give you control over the world around you. Give up, you just can't do it. And if you say you can, you're lying and you shouldn't try to teach others. Lying isn't tolerated on this site.**

**Written by Gaia Swansong, a highly respected solitary witch, herbalist and clairvoyant in New Orleans, Louisiana.**

Anger brought her blood to a boil in her veins. Atheists and agnostics attacking the Wiccan faith was one thing – ignorant assholes are everywhere, and she wasn't Wiccan anyway – but witches themselves attacking a legitimate line of study in the Craft was unacceptable to her. Zoe, like the other girls, had devoted their time to channelling the energies around them, whether they cooperated or not.

"That's a lot of cynical bullshit right there," slurred a husky voice in her ear. She jumped in fright, placing a hand over her chest to still her nerves.

"God, Kyle, you scared me. How'd you get in my room?" she asked with a little frown of confusion.

"I'm the best goddamn telekinetic in this place, so one, that article is full of shit, and two, your door was unlocked. Silly Zoe," Kyle replied with a dimple-inducing grin, headbutting her arm affectionately.

She tried to look angry at him but ultimately chuckled at his words and moved over so he could sit beside her on the bed.

"So," the young witch began, "what's your opinion on elemental magic? Seeing as everyone here studies it."

Zoe's breath hitched in her throat as Kyle chewed his full lower lip slowly in thought.

_Don't even think about it, Zoe_, she scolded herself. _He'll never like you. No one likes you. Stop thinking about him._

Finally he inhaled deeply and responded, "Well, I think that nature is a beautiful, terrifying, untapped and wonderful concept, not unlike yourself."

The attractive warlock winked at her before continuing.

"So there are certain ways we can use all that energy, in its different forms, but I don't think we should be able to. I mean, _we_ obviously can, but imagine if someone really bad got their grimy hands on a real good spellbook. Imagine the sheer level of destruction they could lay upon this city, with so much ease. Like... goddamn."

_Goddamn indeed_, she thought, _who'd have thought that Eros here had a bloody great vocabulary in his gorgeous head. And such glorious syntax._

His intelligence was alluring to her, like she was a moth and he a scented candle.

"Mm... that's where I disagree," said Zoe carefully, the tantalising taste of her own opinion on her tongue for the first time. He cocked an eyebrow with pleasant surprise as she continued with new-found finesse.

"We're witches. We take what we goddamn want, then the Universe or the deities decide when we have it. There's so much power out there, so much force, you know? All of it _right_ there for the taking. Why would you refuse a perfectly good gift at the proverbial Christmas?"

Kyle beamed at the sight of the true Zoe, his narrow tunnel vision of her based on her presence in class widening as she was unveiled.

"I like talking to you like this," he admitted, squeezing her shoulder in a brotherly manner with a smile.

"Me too, Kyle."

Her heart sank as he gestured for the door to open itself, shutting it gently behind him with his powers.

Zoe was okay with being ignored, at first. She had shaped her entire being around being Violet's shadow – both parties were dependent on her independency. But not with Kyle. He made her want to be as confident and beautiful as she knew she was, somewhere, deep down inside her soul where no light or recognition reached.

* * *

><p><em>Kyle Spencer<em>

He might have been flirting up a storm with her best friend while simultaneously fending off the fawning affections of the other love-crazed girls she lived with, but he treated her like she should be treated. He looked at her like a separate entity, an enigma all on her own, forever a living celebration of the invisible in Jeffrey Campbells.

* * *

><p><em>Violet Harmon<em>

Laying back on Madison's double bed, Violet spread her legs as far as she felt necessary to look and feel comfortable, and waited for the fomer A-list celebrity to strut through the door. Looking around, all Violet saw was opulence. Madison's vanity was twice the size of everyone else's, with three mirrors and dressing room lights. At least twenty designer perfumes and their respective scent cards were lined up in front of the mirrors, more than a lifetime's worth of cosmetics and hair products strewn across the desk and in partially-open drawers. A small amount of jealousy stung her suddenly, knowing that Madison could click her fingers to get whatever she wanted. Violet would always be the girl that fought like hell for it.

Lost in thought, she didn't hear the light click-click of heels walking across the floorboards, followed by a quiet sigh at the sight of a melancholy Violet stretched out on her bed.

"Maybe tell me next time you feel like being roomies so I can stock my coke in advance," Madison quipped with an eye-roll.

"Hey Madison," mumbled Violet.

"So are you here to talk? Or are you just here to help blow my stash? Either way I'm down, so make up your mind or leave."

Violet shook herself out of her self-deprecating reverie. "No," she said firmly, "I want to talk to you about Zoe."

The taller blonde flopped herself down beside her, stomach on the bed, long legs in the air.

"Well you better get started, oh Queen of Darkness. Sun's going down in an hour and we have a lot of bitching to do."

"I mean, the girl's my best friend, I wouldn't call it b-"

"Shut up and start talking."

Violet suppressed a smile and launched into her version of Zoe's origin story.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN PS: The article referred to in this is total fiction that I wrote to add to the story and to depict a real struggle amongst witches in today's magical community. Gaia Swansong only exists in my brain. But it must be said that there are things you can and cannot do with magick and this story is intended as an expression of trying to push that limit, nowhere near an accurate depiction of it. AHS being AHS, there is a crap ton of creative license in this, I just happen to have done my witch homework. Now for the biggest question of all: do you ship Vyle or Zyle?**_


	5. A Lot To Learn

_**A/N: Welcome back everyone! Chapter five already, huh? In this installment of TBWIT, Kyle gets his warlock on in a different way, Madison and Violet are a dynamic duo, and Zoe is forever invisible. There is also a tiny hint of a somethin'-somethin' going on behind the scenes. Just you wait. Eat up, children.**_

* * *

><p><em>Madison Montgomery<em>

Befriending Violet was easier than she thought. They shared the same lack-of-fucks-to-give, an apathetic attitude towards hard work and abundant natural ability. Madison even like some of the same bands that Violet did from her grunge phase in the ninth grade, just before Hollywood dominated her lifestyle. That was how her life had turned out – washed up celebrity, supposedly in rehab but actually in a witchcraft private school, living for the influx of work that would come every so often. Her manager still called whenever there was a second-rate romcom deemed the next Titanic of the box office that needed an attractive young female protagonist. But there were no lines to learn in Miss Robichaux's, no equally attractive male actors to make out with on – and off – set, and no wrap parties to attend.

"Well shit," Madison said, having heard Violet's recollection of her friendship with Zoe, "she's a total reb-dawg. Who'd have thought there was an alcoholic coke-whore like the rest of us under that unflattering Versace sack?"

Violet rolled her eyes with mock scorn at the urban vocabulary of the new-found friend sitting before her.

"Yeah, she's a shocker. Took me this long to figure out, huh?"

Madison nodded knowingly, before getting up to snatch makeup remover off the vanity and some cotton pads. Violet look at her sideways in confusion.

"It's like eight o'clock, don't you have parties to go to? Dance floors to tear up?" she asked in earnest.

The actress turned and gave her a rare smile, her real smile, showing only kindness and content. She bit down on her glossy red lip as if to consider her response.

"Don't be stupid, Violet," Madison replied quietly after a while, grinning at the clumpy black smudges on the cotton in her hands.

"No one wears this much makeup at sleepovers with their real friends."

* * *

><p><em>Kyle Spencer<em>

He simply could not get Violet out of his head. Every time he looked out the window with everyone else, bored in Witches In History, he saw her knowing smirk, her gentle eyes. In Kinesis, he accidentally set himself on fire thinking about the shining river of her hair reaching down her back. _Hilarious_, he thought self-deprecatingly as he smothered his sleeve with a damp cloth, _I'm literally on fire for Violet._

"Thinking about her again?"

The teasing grin of Zoe broke his reverie as she gestured at the mess he was currently making with his overflowing herbal salve. He quickly sat the dripping beaker back down, apologised to a bewildered Cordelia and started wiping the green-brown mess carefully into a waste bucket, eyes on Violet's the whole time. She smiled at him, eyes full of mirth, and he dropped the bucket.

"Mr. Spencer, I don't know what has gotten into you today, but I suggest you focus on not creating a mess," Cordelia reprimanded.

Cursing himself under his breath, he picked the bucket up and apologised to the headmistress again.

Resting his palms on the cold stone working bench in the greenhouse, he turned to Zoe again with eyes wide.

"What is it about her, Zoe? Why am I so helplessly infatuated?"

His petite friend smiled, but there was a hint of sadness lingering heavy in her eyes.

"I don't know, Kyle," she sighed, "but you should probably do something about that."

He down at her in confusion.

"Well go on, ask her out! Go get 'em, tiger."

Zoe shoved him towards Violet in what she hoped was playful enthusiasm, blinking back the burning sensation of tears she refused to shed as she bit down hard on her lip.

He broke into a wide, silly grin, throwing her a thumbs up as he turned to tap Violet on the shoulder, his male supermodel smirk at the ready.

* * *

><p><em>Zoe Benson<em>

She gave him an encouraging wave and a big fake smile, but his eyes were already fixed on Violet, dimples cranked up to their maximum effect. Jealousy simmered in her gut as she watched the boy she cared so recklessly for flirt with her best friend, knowing only she could make him happy, knowing only Zoe Benson would give him the love he craved from someone else.

Violet would tear him limb from limb, eat his heart and spit it back out when boredom returned. She'd watch as the disappointment burned him up like Misty Day, spitting at his foolishness. You don't simply fall in love Violet. You have the privilege of loving her.

By the time the pleasant bell chimed to declare the end of the school day, Violet had taken him into the hallway and kissed him against the wall. Zoe watched them, bitterness in her heart overwhelming, imagining that as her friend's lips moved against Kyle's that cracks would run down his face; splitting his eyes, tearing apart his beautiful mind, leaving him no lips with which to speak. Zoe watched them, drying tears heavy in her eyes as they pulled away blinking, like children seeing starlight in the open night skies, standing in a field of each other's emotions. She was always watching them; unaware that she too was being watched.

* * *

><p><em>Kyle Spencer<em>

"Kyle, sweetheart, what did you want to speak to me about?" Cordelia inquired, wiping down the workbench from the first Herbalism and Healing class of the week. He grinned at his teacher politely, taking in the damp, dark greenhouse surroundings.

"Well, Miss Foxx-"

"Missus, actually."

"Right, my bad. Well, Missus Foxx, I was in your class today and I felt something. Something I hadn't felt before."

She laughed lightly; a clear, ringing sound like the class bell.

"If this is about your affections for Miss Harmon, I'm afraid you should be speaking to Myrtle-"

"No, no," he clarified, blushing furiously, "it's about healing."

Cordelia raised a cleanly-defined eyebrow in surprise.

"Then ask away, Kyle. I'm all ears."

He grinned again, too wide, bursting with nerves she found endearing. Her radiant presence had that effect on people.

"Um, you see, my whole life I've always been psychokinetic. My momma was like that too, scared the shit out of my dad, it's part of why he left. But I come here, and there's so much more to it all. Like, there's so many different kinds of magic I never even knew existed. I've been in your class a few times now, and I know I've been an awful klutz, but I feel like... I'm goin' to sound a right fool, but... I just feel like maybe there's something there for me."

She nodded quickly, knowing exactly what he meant. His other abilities had been long suppressed in favour of his kinesis.

"It's true. When we made the dead flowers bloom that day in class, yours grew taller and brighter than everyone else's. I knew straight away that healing was a strong suit of yours."

Kyle bit his lip, holding back a proud smile.

"You really think so?"

She pushed her silky blonde hair behind her ears and sat on an elegantly carved mahogany stool, patting the one next to her with a delicate palm.

"Sit down Kyle, you have a lot to learn."


	6. Two Wives for Two Lives

_**A/N: Chapter six and things are movin' and shakin'. Casual reminder that TBWIT is slightly AU. This is a long one, with one-liners I'm pretty damn proud to have come up with, plus some actual AHS: Coven dialogue gems. Also guys I've got a name for ya'll: TBWITches! Get it? …I am so unfunny. Someone get me a social life. Just kidding, I have one, but it doesn't involve much quality humour. I'll be going on camp from the 11**__**th**__** to the 14**__**th**__**, so unfortunately I won't be able to post more often. Please leave reviews guys, I need to know that I'm giving you worthy stuff. Revel in the blood and gory – I mean, glory – that is chapter six. Follow, favourite and review guys! **_

_**Who's the baddest witch in town?**_

* * *

><p><em>Cordelia Foxx<em>

She really did think that Kyle had a lot of potential. After one private lesson, he was able to heal a badly burned hydrangea plant and charge it with a potent protection spell, tested out by the slightly reluctant caretaker Spalding with a steak knife. And it wasn't even a full moon. In fact, all of her students were blossoming under her care, with Violet and Madison finding friends in one another; even Zoe was coming into her own in Spellcraft, her spells more successful and powerful than anyone had anticipated or hoped.

With the waxing of the moon and a wave of fulfilment, the arrival of the coven's Supreme came as an unexpected slap in the face.

"No, no, you _idiots_, I said more to the right. Yes, there – no, closer to the dining table – there."

The headmistress hurried down the stairs, sensible heels clicking against the marble as she was greeted by the sight of her mother, Fiona Goode.

"And what the hell do you think you're doing? I thought you were in Switzerland," Cordelia snapped angrily at the richly-dressed old Hollywood beauty before her.

"Now, now, Delia, that's no way to talk to your mother. And I was in LA – it's tragic. The glamour's gone," Fiona lectured in a sour tone.

"Yeah, it's good to see you too, you miserable witch."

A frown appeared, heavily creasing the Supreme's forehead. _Evidence of ageing_, Cordelia noted.

"All these years of backchat, Delia. What did I ever do to you?"

A bitter laugh spilled out of Cordelia's mouth.

"Just tell me why you're here," she asked, voice shaking with the effort of remaining civil.

"Why, I'm the Supreme," her mother continued, unaffected by her vitriol, "I have a duty to this coven."

"Oh yeah? Stop with the bullshit, mother. We both know you have no interest in New Orleans unless it serves you some screwed-up purpose. What do you get out of being here?"

Fiona beckoned to Spalding, then gestured at the refreshments table for him to get her a drink.

"Make it a stiff one, Spalding. I've got some 'splaining to do."

"Damn right, you do. I wasn't born yesterday, Fiona, you'd never come here on your own terms. Why don't you start by telling me who sent you?"

A sheepish smile appeared on her mother's face.

"It's the Council, dear, nothin' to worry your pretty head about. I'm here on strictly business purposes, keeping the old machine oiled, so to speak. I'm sure you're still doing a half-satisfactory job on those poor dimwits you got holed up in this place."

The glare Cordelia gave her burned like the tip of her mother's cigarette.

"You know what, I don't really care anymore. Do whatever you want. But you make damn sure you stay away from my students. They don't need your negative influence," she spat, striding past the worryingly nonchalant woman to her next class.

"Alright everyone, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm interrupting your morning break, but I assure you there is a very good reason for the disturbance," Cordelia addressed in her usual formal manner.

Madison let out a cruel laugh that echoed across the hall.

"What, is your poor little rose garden still reeling from Katrina? 'Cause I'm pretty sure that's a cause for celebration-"

From her place at the top of the staircase landing, the headmistress glared down furiously at Madison, who shrank into stunned silence.

"This is _serious _and I will not tolerate your messing around. The Supreme of this coven – my mother, unfortunately – arrived for the first time in nearly two decades, and you can bet your bottom dollar the Council is right up her ass."

Not even crickets could be heard as the witches and warlock considered her statement. Never in their relatively short time had Cordelia not been her light-hearted and relatively docile self - not even Nan and Queenie had seen her that way, having been there for a year longer than the others.

"But if it's been, like, twenty years..." Zoe began nervously, "then why is she here now? And who's the 'Council' everyone's freaking out about?"

"Ah, you'll have to forgive me for not explaining earlier," Cordelia answered, reverting to her normal calm tones.

"The Witches Council of Louisiana uphold and enforce the laws that protect every witch and warlock in the state, serving as a government of sorts. As you can guess, they have a lot of work to do, which is why it concerns me that they should dedicate their time to forcing my mo- I mean, the Supreme – to ensure everything is running smoothly. Which it is."

She seemed to be trying to comfort herself with her own confirmation, staring off into the distance as her students started moving again, continuing their daily routines.

* * *

><p><em>Madison Montgomery<em>

"Hey Jeeves, can I get some iceberg lettuce with a side of blue cheese?" she ordered Spalding half-jokingly, a holier-than-thou smirk on her face. Violet sniggered at her, and Madison swung her heel into her friend's leg with mock anger.

"Girl, be nice to Spalding. Poor bastard ain't got no tongue," muttered Queenie, large arms jostling over her bowl of soup.

The seemingly permanent smirk widened as Madison continued her jesting.

"Is that true Jeeves? Did you use your tongue for something wicked?"

She scoffed at him condescendingly.

"Or maybe you just suck at going down."

Spalding dropped Zoe's plate audibly in front of her, not quite slamming it, but much louder than usual. Madison took this as a challenge and tutted at him as he walked away.

"Aw, come on, Jeeves. Show us your stub! Maybe we can put it to use..."

The entire table turned to look at her, their stares telling her that enough was enough. The Hollywood A-lister sat back casually, eyes set to roll. Instead, she turned to Zoe.

"So new girl, what are you in for?" Madison asked, changing the subject and diverting attention away from herself for once.

"Her boyfriend," Nan stated, as if it were plain for all to see.

Queenie gave the clairvoyant a stern look and said, "Nan, shut up before you get yo' ass in trouble."

Zoe looked up from her soup uneasily, unsure how to respond.

"Did you kill him?" Madison continued, sincere curiosity forming in response to her silence.

"No, it was an accident," Zoe replied quietly, obviously wishing to speak no more on the subject.

"It was an accident, Zoe," echoed Nan. "And you will find love again. A strange and unexpected love."

"Girl, are you deaf or just stupid?" Queenie scolded.

Madison ignored the bickering girls in front of her and turned back to Zoe.

"Tell us about this... 'accident'. And don't spare all the gory details."

Violet stood up to walk out of the room in a huff.

"Whoa there, Flash. Did I go too far with your little friend? Because you didn't seem to think my small talk was too hot to handle last night!" Madison called after her.

She was met with silence. A frustrated sigh tumbled from her cotton candy pink lips. It was the boredom. The boredom was killing her and making her a bigger bitch than she already was, leaving her dying for the thrill of the next reaction.

* * *

><p><em>Zoe Benson<em>

It all sort of came out at once.

"I'd been dating this older guy, Kit Walker. It was a bad idea from the beginning, I mean, the guy had two wives. Violet had just moved from the East Coast and I'd only ever really known Arizona, you know?"

Madison nodded, impatiently gesturing for her to continue.

"As soon as he moved in across the road from us, we were crushing on him like no one else. Violet always said he was 'the family man' version of her soon-to-be boyfriend Tate, who as we discovered, was actually much worse as a dating candidate, being a mass murderer and all. But that's not my story to tell. I'd somehow caught Kit's eye and then all of a sudden we were drinking our way through the Walker family's cellar and he was fucking me against the old shelves. There was cab merlot everywhere."

She stopped to breathe and think over what she'd just revealed to them. Madison's mouth hung open in blatant admiration and surprise. Zoe decided it safe to continue in a grim manner.

"And then his wives came home."

"Oh shit..." Madison breathed, absorbed in her story.

"Yeah. Turns out the black one, Alma, thought it was high time to get rid of the other wife. We heard her screams from the cellar. Kit kept telling me to be quiet, to quiet down, but I wasn't saying anything. Still, the crazy bitch somehow knew where we were and she tried to axe down my Kit, my darling Kit. Of course I tried to stop her, I hit her over the head with two big bottles of scotch, I tried to pull it away from her..."

Tears started to stream down her face as she relived the sentiment of her experiences.

"...and... and he just kept screaming at her about Grace, the one she'd killed, they were screaming terrible things at each other and I just pulled too hard and it..."

Zoe was sobbing hard now.

"...I hurt him. I pulled too hard, or Alma let go, and it just embedded itself in his stomach. It was like I couldn't move, no matter how I tried. The police arrived and I was covered in blood but then I wished the weapon away in a panic and it just - it disappeared. There was no evidence of me killing him, just a hysteric Alma covered in Grace and Kit's blood. They locked her up at Briarcliff, but my mother knew what I'd done and sent me here with Violet. I haven't heard from them since."

She shook violently, allowing herself to collapse into Nan's arms.

_Queenie_

"You just go on and get to bed, sweetheart. It's been a long day," Queenie tells Zoe gently, ushering her up the stairs with a gentle hand.

"Someone's grown soft," Madison smirks. "Oh wait – you're always soft."

"You better shut your face, Sabrina the teenage cracker. Unless you've forgotten what _I'm_ in for," the human voodoo doll retorted sharply.

The blonde witch stalked her way back up the stairs, red Louis Vuitton stilettos clicking against the marble, unaffected.

Shaking her head in vehement disdain, Queenie trudged up the stairs with Nan to their second-year private classes with Myrtle and Cordelia.

"Why don't you believe Zoe?" Nan asked, stopping at the first landing.

Queenie rolled her eyes.

"Again with the mind-reading? I should just write a book so everyone can read every little thing that goes through my mind. Clearly you're on that bandwagon," the taller witch quipped facetiously.

The clairvoyant eyed her, demanding an answer.

"Fine. I think she's full of shit."

"Why?"

"Come on Nan, you a white girl too. You know how they tell everybody things like that, for attention or whatever. Wouldn't put lyin' past her rich girl ass."

"But she's telling the truth."

"No she ain't, Nan. I know you're a clairvoyant but that girl is spouting damn lies. If she can't move a pencil, she damn well can't make a murder weapon disappear under stress."

Queenie was met with stubborn silence as they parted ways.

* * *

><p><em>Cordelia Foxx<em>

The headmistress huffed out a heavy sigh, dropping her head into her husband's lap.

"I've been planning our Samhain celebrations for two weeks now, and I've got nothing. Nothing memorable, nothing different. I just want this one to be special," Cordelia admitted to him.

Hank nodded sympathetically as he combed his fingers gently through her shining blonde hair, long accustomed to her determination to make every Sabbat and Esbat more memorable than the last. No easy feat, as he imagined.

"What about a bonfire, that's nice and symbolic, right?" he suggested enthusiastically.

She gave him a sardonic smile.

"We do that every year, Hank. Do pay attention. Besides, I'm pretty sure we've scared most of the bad spirits away already – and not to mention the relationship Madison and Kyle already have with fire. Those two are starting to worry me with their pyrokinesis. Anyway, I'm sure you meant well, sweetheart. If only there was a symbolic fire to scare away my mother," Cordelia replied bitterly.

He nodded, leaning back against the sofa to fall asleep within seconds. She placed her head in her hands and considered activities for the upcoming Sabbat.


	7. Boys and Blunts (Part 1)

_**A/N: Greetings all TBWITches! Here we have the frat party everyoneeeee has been waiting for. Welcome to chapter seven! Shenanigans and Wiccan holiday festivities ensue. Shit is starting to go DOWN in the first instalment of the two-parter I've been itching to write since I started this fic. Bout time we got back on that plot-line grind, none of that filler nonsense, yeah? Like, can you say HECTIC? And since it's vital to the plot-line that Kyle remains relatively not-dead, Madison does not get raped and as a result never flips the bus. Sorry not sorry. I hate writing rape scenes, they make me sad for days. But I digress – enjoy chapter seven, because it gets a little cheeky at Miss Robichaux's and beyond. Say hello to not-dead Charlie as a frat boy! And as per the guest request in my inbox, hilarity ensues. Because Zoe is totally giving Madison a run for her money, the seductress.**_

* * *

><p><em>Violet Harmon<em>

Violet jolted awake in Kyle's arms at the harsh crashing of cymbals that came from his phone.

"For God's sake, Kyle, get a nicer ringtone," she complained, smacking his arm when he laughed at her overreaction.

The blonde boy reached over her petite body to the other side of his bed and swiped to receive the call.

"What's up? Yeah, it's Kyle. Get fucking caller ID, dude. Yeah, okay. I'll bring my girlfriend. Yeah, cool. What time?"

Violet listened curiously to the conversation, chewing her lip slowly, deliberately, as he watched her flirtatious antics with a growing grin. She liked to torture him.

"Oh, sure. Well... fuck, Violet, you're distracting me... Sorry, that was her. I've got a school dinner man, I can't just skip out without at least twelve hour's notice. Hell no! Fine, fine, seven o'clock. Sweet. Alright, I'll see you there. Yeah, love you too brother. I'm hanging up now."

She rolled her eyes at his fraternity habits, asking herself why she even bothered with a frat boy if not for his looks and talent for making magic with his bare hands. Violet chuckled to herself at that last thought.

When she finally found Madison, the movie star was lounging by the backyard pool with Zoe, both in scandalisingly sized bikinis unsuitable for the fall weather, chatting with surprising enthusiasm about upper class culture and all the conventions they'd both had to appear at.

"No seriously," Madison snorted through bouts of laughter, "I was just sitting there with my dad, trying to text my boyfriend under the table and this guy just stands up, takes all his clothes off and runs towards us at like full speed."

"Holy shit, no way!"

"Yeah, I mean – fuck – this son of a bitch was _so_ determined to, like, show us his night stick. And I was only twelve at the time."

"That's fucked up, man. Did they lock him up with all the child molesters for a night?"

"Don't know, don't care. Oh, hey Violet," Madison chirped, raising her strawberry-sugar-coated cocktail glass of what looked like orange juice in acknowledgement.

Violet waved slowly, confused. _Since when does Madison Montgomery talk to Zoe?_ she asked herself.

"I've just been chilling with your girl here, turns out she's pretty rad. You might've been onto something the other day," the blonde celebrity continued with a wink, leaving Zoe confused as to what Madison was referring to.

"Uh, yeah..." Violet replied uncertainly in an effort not to raise suspicion, "anyway, there's a frat party tonight, Kappa Lambda Gamma. We're all invited."

"Huh," Zoe grunted.

"Well, he invited me, and _I'm_ inviting the rest of you," she corrected herself, "but he should be down with it. Frat boys are all about that 'the more the merrier' life."

Madison nodded, having a solid understanding of the fraternity/sorority lifestyle.

"What time should we be there?" Madison asked, frowning at the state of her cuticles.

"Seven-thirty."

Zoe rolled her eyes at Violet's response and said, "She means it starts at seven. Violet's got this goddamn awful rule about always being exactly thirty minutes late to parties, and at least one hour late to important shit."

"Well, who'd have known," Madison stated, words saturated in sarcasm, "our little shrinking Violet has wannabe tendencies. We'll be there at a quarter to seven. The party starts when we say it does, and I'm bored."

Zoe and Violet shared a knowing smile.

* * *

><p><em>Cordelia Foxx<em>

"Okay ladies, it's been fun having our little family dinner tonight, but it's time to plan for this year's Samhain celebration. Hands up if you say death to the bonfire?"

Birds chirped in the silence that followed. No one wanted to break the sacred tradition of the bonfire for the sake of keeping it 'fresh'.

"What time do Sabbats start anyway?" Violet asked from her position in Kyle's lap, fingers dancing idly across his collarbones.

Zoe held in a snort of derision.

"Sabbats begin at sundown on the eve of the celebration. News flash, Vi – that's today. The eve of All Hallow's Eve," her friend explained, blushing as Kyle winked at her.

Cordelia coughed beneath a delicate hand and addressed Violet directly.

"Miss Harmon, should you choose to listen to Myrtle's teachings, I'm sure you'd be able to take note of the basic festivity rituals. You know, the kind that everyone here learns on their first day."

Everyone chose the polite route of ignoring the disappointed frown the headmistress gave Violet across the table.

The legacy witch remained oblivious to Cordelia's condescending tone and continued to cause verbal damage.

"We're not going to your precious _sah-ween_ hoo-ha anyway. There's a frat party downtown that is calling my name. Literally. From the guest list, which they use to stop gate-crashers and party-poopers alike," Violet added, staring at her headmistress pointedly at the phrase 'party-poopers'.

Nan tutted sideways at her.

"You shouldn't have said that," the second-year warned, "The daughter of the Supreme takes Sabbats very seriously."

"How seriously?" Violet enquired.

Queenie looked at her and Kyle grimly across the dining table, licked her lips and replied, "The observation of _all_ the Sabbats and _all_ the Esbats are compulsory in this coven. No ands, ifs or buts. Except for Romeo over here, he gets as many butts as he likes."

Madison and the human voodoo doll smirked at each other.

"Enough, ladies," Cordelia interrupted. "I certainly don't have a problem with you attending parties – frankly, I'm glad Zoe is getting out of the house."

She winked subtly at her underdog student.

"But Queenie is correct. Samhain is our New Year's Eve, attendance at a celebration of some kind is compulsory."

Madison's carefully-lined eyes flew wide and round in realisation, inflating like balloons.

"What is it, Clara Oswald?" Violet quipped, her precious reference met with dull confusion.

"I – well I don't know who the fuck that's meant to be, Vi. Anyway, like you said Foxx, we have to celebrate. Correct?"

Cordelia nodded sharply in a display of adamance.

"Because I don't know about you," Madison continued slyly, berry lips quirking at the corners, "but I'd call a frat party one hell of a celebration."

The headmistress considered it for a moment before shaking her head.

"No, no, it's a _frat_ party, for Goddess' sake. This is a sacred ritual! I won't have you carving pentacles into some poor adolescent's wall."

Her statement was followed by confused silence.

"Well... not that we actually do that kind of thing..." she clarified somewhat nervously, "but anyway, we still need to treat the occasion with respect."

"And we will!" Madison insisted, her Diana Ferrari boots beginning to jiggle in irritation. "I swear, lady, we'll celebrate it. We'll set some shit on fire, cast a couple of good luck spells for each other and get completely off our faces. Sound like a plan?"

Cordelia's mouth set into a firm line, but she nodded her consent.

"On one condition, Montgomery. Don't make me go with you."

Zoe and Violet snickered quietly.

"What?" the teacher asked earnestly. "I don't want a hangover when I'm casting protection spells."

"Don't worry, you're not invited," the celebrity assured her patronisingly.

"There is actually such a thing as being too old to party, and you, Missus Foxx, are the epitome of that colloquial."

Cordelia would have been insulted if she wasn't so impressed at Madison's ironic choice of words.

"Alright, alright, I'll go out with Hank and my mother can go find herself some boy toy at the bar to spend the night with. Don't get into too much trouble, girls. And that includes you Kyle."

The former fraternity boy grinned widely.

* * *

><p><em>Madison Montgomery<em>

Everything Ke$ha claimed in her hit debut 'Tik Tok' was true. The party didn't start until Madison Montgomery walked in.

"Oh my God, is that-"

"It is!"

"Hey Madison!"

"Holy-"

"I know right-"

"-she hasn't made a movie in years-"

"Haven't seen her since-"

"It's Madison Montgomery everyone!"

Cheers and nervous giggles erupted around her as she picked up a red cup and held it out impatiently.

"What's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?" she broadcasted in all her usual apathy, sticking out her hip with her signature smirk.

"Nothing, nothing at all," breathed a timid girl who immediately rushed up to Madison and led her by the hand onto the dance floor.

Zoe and Violet bit their lips simultaneously, both suddenly unsure how to carry themselves in her absence.

The Harmon legacy shook herself out of her reverie first, as expected from the rougher of the serial fakers.

"Come on, Zoe," Violet muttered, taking her best friend's hand, "We've got boys to tease and blunts to share."

A grin spread itself across Zoe's face.

"Lead the way, Vi."

* * *

><p><em>Zoe Benson<em>

A bass-heavy remix of Iggy Azalea's ubiquitous hit song 'Fancy' blared throughout the fraternity house as the girls bid temporary goodbyes to an uncomfortable Queenie and a sullen Nan, leaving in search of a good night's fun.

"Hey, I'm going to find Kyle, okay? I'll be back soon," Violet yelled over the music as she fished one of the aforementioned blunts on her out of her pocket and lit up.

"Okay, have fun!" Zoe replied, tucking her hands into the pockets of her conservative vintage black dress, pushing away the heavy silk with an air of hidden irritation.

_What kind of bitch proclaims they'll party with you and ditches you straight after_? she fumed to herself.

Once Violet was out of sight, she ripped off the tear-away skirt of her dress to reveal the borderline scandalous hem of a figure-hugging dress. She was more than vaguely reminiscent of Madison Montgomery as she kicked off her classy patent black leather flats in favour of the tallest pair of nude Kenji stilettos she owned, strutting back towards the source of the mainstream music with a point to prove and a tight teenage body to move.

Zoe hadn't made it ten feet down the ambiently lit hallway, raucous music fading into the distance, before a grinning college boy appeared before her. She regarded him carefully, and decided he was pretty hot. Anyone who wore the hell out of his beer-stained Kappa Lambda Gamma shirt like that had to be seriously distracting in terms of looks. Leaning against the wall, she pulled out a cigarette and lit it with exaggerated movements. Closing her eyes slowly and taking a long drag from its filter, she listened to the satisfying catch of breath in the boy's throat as she snapped the cap of her lighter shut.

* * *

><p><em>Charlie<em>

"What's your name?" Zoe stage-whispered to him, slipping further into the shadows of the space, feeling ridiculous and powerful at the same time.

"I'm – I'm Charlie," the frat boy stuttered, uncertain words in contrast to his lascivious eyes that drank her in.

She revelled in his attentions, flashing briefly to the thought of Kit's eyes on her.

"Well, Charlie, I like my whisky on the rocks."

He nodded with a silly grin and all but ran to find her the pretentious drink, only to return to an empty hallway.

"Goddammit," he muttered under his breath.

When Charlie returned to the dance hall, trying to lose himself in the crowd and his own humiliation, he saw her. Zoe was bouncing in her heels, skating towards and away from a boy he recognised as his former best friend Kyle, who was obviously already drunk and trying to grind on her.

"Fuck that," he swore angrily. Girls always forgot about him when Kyle turned up.

The thought of that corn-fed Grecian god douchebag hitting it off with her made him grab an entire tray of shots off the countertop and empty them into his mouth. The alcohol soothed his irritation and replaced it with a light buzzing sensation, luring him into its comforting arms of liquid courage. He wanted Kyle to remember this, to never try to steal his catches again. A sudden realisation stopped him on his way across the dance floor – Kyle had told him he was bringing his new private school girlfriend. He'd called her _Violet_. Not Zoe.

"Oh shit," Charlie breathed, slurring a little on his words.

Whoever Violet was, he was going to make damn sure she didn't waste herself on Kyle's cheating ass. Through whatever means possible. Charlie had let a few go before, telling himself that his scholarship frat brother needed the chicks more than he did. But not this one. Not Zoe.

_You're going to regret taking her from me,_ he thought vehemently. _An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Your girl for my girl. I'm going to deflower your precious Violet._


	8. Boys and Blunts (Part 2)

_**A/N: Part 2 is here! Everyone remember the promise Zoe made to herself first chapter? That Violet wouldn't be the centre of attention anymore? Yeah. I've been enjoying injecting such a strong sense of narrator's tone into this story and ohhhhh shieeet. Welcome back TBWITches! How was that last chapter for pent-up romantic/sexual frustration? This is chapter EIGHT (already?) and oh boy, Kyle is a troublemaker. We'll spend a lot of this chapter focused on Violet, because that little indiscretion with the Kyle and Zoe on the dancefloor has not been forgotten or left unfinished. Also a casual reminder that it's assumed everyone knows that Violet is a witch from previously meeting her or hearing about her, but not about the other girls and Kyle. This chapter Zoe is actually kind of a bitch, Queenie and Nan are total badass neutralisers, we watch Charlie try to live up to his word, Madison continues to steal the show, the girls get their witch on, Cordelia worries and Violet makes them all sorry. Vi-Vi knows everyone, and everyone knows her, the witchcraft princess. 'Cause you don't fuck with the Queen of Darkness.**_

_**Mmph. No shame in awkward slant rhyming either. Seeing as this is the longest update so far.**_

_**But seriously. Who do you guys think is the baddest witch in town?**_

* * *

><p><em>Violet Harmon<em>

Everything was going as planned for Zoe. Violet was busy throwing up whatever she'd consumed in the past two hours, and Kyle was halfway dead with the amount of vodka in his body, hormones raging, with no girlfriend to satiate them. When Violet emerged, ready to go for another round of drinking games earlier than anticipated, she was welcomed by the sight of her worst nightmare. Zoe with Kyle.

Zoe. With. Kyle.

"You goddamn _bitch_! I'm going to fucking kill you!" Violet screamed at Zoe from across the floor.

The music squealed to a halt and people moved to make room for the wrath of the Queen of Darkness.

Kyle was blissfully unaware of his surroundings and remained lost in Zoe's embrace, tongue searching her mouth for the satisfaction he knew he could never get from Violet. He was still gripping Zoe's bare thigh with a bruising grip as the rich witch opened her eyes to stare cruelly back at her livid best friend, moving her lips aggressively against his. Anger surged through Violet as she watched her boyfriend bite down sensually on Zoe's lower lip, tipping her over the edge. Violet ran up and hit him with the hardest left hook she could muster, leaving him to sprawl to the floor in pain, blood dripping from his nose. Then she turned to Zoe with a glare that could freeze over a summer lake. Curses and soft warnings spread throughout the room as people moved back further, knowing better than to mess with an open witch when shit hit the fan.

People shifted excitedly, phones already recording, expecting the first punch to be thrown. To their surprise, neither of the girls moved. Violet took a deep breath and closed her eyes. For a few seconds, it seemed like nothing was happening. Then they heard as Zoe gasped for air, and sweat began to drip down her neck. The smell of carbon filled the room, choking people with invisible smoke. More curses were thrown before Zoe screamed, clutching her head as if trying to hold her skull together. Heat had begun to devour all the oxygen in the room, the air simmering around them as Violet continued to turn up the temperature in her fury. In her peripheral vision, a portion of people vacated as the fireplace erupted into violent flames.

Kyle had long since passed out on the floor, forgotten by both girls as Zoe stretched out a shaking hand and tried desperately to bring the temperature down a few degrees, Fahrenheit by Fahrenheit.

"She's a witch!" someone yelled.

"No shit, Sherlock," his friend replied.

Breathing deeper, Zoe frowned in concentration as her pain began to subside, thin sheets of ice beginning to crawl up her arms and serve as relief from the fire that had been started inside her.

"Oh no you don't," Violet spat furiously, hell-bent on making sure she suffered.

Tears began to spill from Zoe's eyes as the icy cold psi she'd summoned began to rush through her veins, cleansing her body of the alcohol she'd consumed with Kyle. _Kyle_. Nauseating memories of what she'd done flooded back to her like some sad kid's viewfinder as the temperature continued to rise and lower, evidence of the game of magical tug-of-war between them.

Nan stormed in and slammed both girls into opposite walls telekinetically, and almost immediately the room temperature normalised. Sorority girls screamed around the clairvoyant, clinging to their boyfriends and girlfriends at this suddenly more dangerous turn of events. Queenie pinned Violet to the wall while Nan restrained Zoe.

"This is what happens when you lie to yourself about who you are, sweetie," Nan warned her.

"What... what?" Zoe replied in a daze, the ice covering her body retreating back into thin air as she sat up.

Queenie rolled her eyes from across the room.

"We know you a super-slut 'n' all - but Jesus H. Christ, white girl - you couldn't keep your legs shut until the next Sabbat, could you?" the human voodoo doll snarked viciously at Zoe.

Violet hissed at the traitor from across the room, which was responded to with its victim shrinking against Nan.

"Come on, Zoe!" Violet taunted, powers stirring inside her, itching for another round. "You weren't so scared of hurting me ten minutes ago with that douchebag I called a boyfriend. Get up and fight me, witch-bitch!"

"Uh-uh, little girl. We ain't playin' _Fight Club_ on Samhain. Calm the fuck down and let's scram, okay?" Queenie advised her gravely. The legacy witch sighed and relented.

"We can save it for later," Violet promised Zoe bitterly, "but we're not done here. No one's home tonight, not even the Supreme. Madison promised we'd celebrate, remember?"

Nan frowned and closed her eyes, seeming to concentrate before opening them again and nodding.

"Cordelia just said to stay here," she told them sternly, grabbing a tray of shots. "And I think it's time to make good on that promise."

"Who you tryin' to fool, Nan? We all know you ain't drinking." Queenie commented.

The clairvoyant gave her a sardonic smile.

"I may not approve the consumption of alcohol by born witches, other than absinthe, but I certainly won't stop my sisters from having a good time," she replied slyly.

People began to leave the room, boredom taking hold as it became very apparent that the fight was over. The DJ stepped back up onto his stand, running a finger over his iPad before cranking a crowd-favourite Tyga song with a smile. Cheers went up in front of the subwoofers as 'Don't Hate Tha Playa' began to thump around the room. Violet rolled her eyes at the choice of music as she stood up and seized Zoe by the hand, staring down a concerned Queenie to indicate she wasn't trying to hurt the other girl.

"Look, you evil witch-bitch," Violet began grimly, "I know you probably don't know what you've done to me, because you've never been this drunk or whatever stupid reason you're gonna bullshit me with, and _Lord _forgive the dress you're wearing – but don't think for a second that I'm fooled by your shy girl front. I've seen you like this before, and I don't appreciate it. Drunk or sober, never touch my boyfriend again and I won't boil your brains. Capisce?"

Zoe nodded, cheeks burning in shame, but not a shred of regret. To her, nothing compared to being in his arms. Whether he was as piss drunk as he acted or not. Because everyone in that room knew that Kyle could hold his liquor better than anyone, and most likely everything he'd had that night had actually caused very little effect on him.

"Good. Now I'm going to actually find Kyle now that half my stomach is currently running through New Orleans' sewerage system, and you are going to purge the alcohol from your body with psi if you haven't already done so. Go, Zoe. Go forget what's happened alongside everyone else," Violet told her sympathetically.

She pushed her way into the hallway in a huff, only to be stopped by a familiar-looking Kappa guy.

"Hey, I just wanted to say that what you did back there, with the heat and stuff, that was pretty cool," he told her.

"And who the fuck are you?" she demanded rudely.

"I'm Charlie," he offered, hand outstretched, but she ignored him.

"Look, I'm just trying to find my boyfriend-"

"Kyle? That lying scumbag I used to call my frat brother? You really wanna go running back to his passed-out pity party?" Charlie questioned harshly.

Violet mulled over his words. Kyle's friend had a point. He'd cheated on her with her best friend and passed out. In his defense, she'd probably knocked him out with that punch, regardless of his alcohol consumption. A vengeful smile crept to her lips at the thought of the pain he was going to feel the next morning, and Charlie watched her, any thoughts or feelings about Zoe fading from his mind as he focused on Violet's mouth.

"You know what, Violet?" he said, oozing cockiness, "What do you say we get out of here, somewhere a little quieter. I reckon it'll do you some good to forget about that goddamn awful Kyle of ours."

She shrugged simply and followed him up the stairs.

* * *

><p><em>Zoe Benson<em>

Since things had cooled down considerably (pun intended), herself alongside Queenie and Nan had decided to follow Madison's recent group text to the letter.

_LET'S GO FKING CRAZY LADIES_, it said. _START WITH KYLE'S LIMP ASS._ _I'LL COME FIND U, SO DON'T START W/OUT ME. WE'LL TAKE IT FROM THERE._

It was a fully sobered-up Zoe who came up with the idea for how to kick off the celebrations.

"Holy shit, Zoe," Madison appraised with a smirk as they joined pinky fingers in a circle around Kyle.

"Levitation spell oughta satisfy Missus Foxx," added Queenie.

They had dragged Kyle out of the dance hall, up the stairs and into an empty guest bedroom, drawing a large pentagram around him. Nan had seen to the scribing of sacred runes around the edges, consecrating and clearing the room of furniture. He groaned slightly as they roughly shifted him into position, metal bowls clanging uncomfortably by his ears against the wooden floor.

"What the hell..." he grumbled.

Queenie grinned at him nastily.

"You're in for a treat, young warlock," Madison whispered to him, cradling his head between her knees.

Kyle groaned again when the humming started. At first it began as a low buzz, barely audible from the back of the girls' throats, but it began to escalate, higher and higher until it became an unbearable wailing. Suddenly it became very clear to him what they were doing.

Anyone in the dance hall beneath them would swear that the flames in the fireplace extinguished themselves when the weird oscillating noises started, only to be replaced by the flames of four candles around the witches. One for every corner of the Earth. Madison's handiwork, of course. Each girl closed their eyes, focusing on the energy channelled by the sound they were making, focusing on gently lifting Kyle's body off the floor. Zoe wooped with glee as he rose into the air, two inches at a time, until he came to a gentle hover above their heads.

"We did it!" whispered a joyful Nan.

An unusual grin spread across Madison's face.

"I'd high-five you all but I'm pretty sure we're meant to keep our pinkies linked," the platinum blonde replied triumphantly.

Kyle's eyes opened again, bleary from his impending hangover. Blinking hard, he looked around to see the room around him from a very peculiar angle indeed.

* * *

><p><em>Kyle Spencer<em>

"Ohhhhh Lord..." he breathed, puffing hard in an effort to keep himself in the air somehow.

"Guys, put me down."

No response.

"Guys seriously, this isn't even a Samhain tradition, just put me _down_-"

He was interrupted by a giggle from Nan.

"Guys!" he squealed uncomfortably, waving his arms about in a frantic manner.

Madison sighed and pulled her hands away, and Kyle hit the floor unceremoniously.

"Fuckin' Christ..." he murmured, rubbing the back of his head that had made impact.

The warlock relaxed greatly as he felt familiar hands run over his hair, soothing the ache between his temples.

"Zoe," he stated reverently.

The he bolted upright in horror.

"Zoe," he repeated dumbly. "Zoe, Zoe, Zoe, Zoe, Zoe."

"Yes?" she asked him gently, "what is it Kyle?"

He collapsed back against her arms.

"What have we done?"

Fat tears began to spill from his eyes as regret and the alcohol he hadn't magically rid himself of yet curled in his stomach.

"I've hurt her, I've hurt her and I never even wanted her..." he continued madly, eyes rolling back and forth like an epileptic seizure.

"What are you talking about, Kyle? We hurt her, yeah, but it's only because we... we..." Zoe trailed, unable to find the words to articulate their betrayal.

"Because _what_, Zoe? Because I love you more? Because I never loved her?"

Madison slid back and covered her mouth, trying and failing to stifle the giggle that tumbled out.

"What?" Zoe and Kyle demanded at the same time, briefly locking eyes in acknowledgement of their synchronicity.

"Oh my God, it's just-" Madison laughed, struggling to finish her sentence, "-all this time, dude, you could've had _anyone_, not just motherfucking Vi, literally anyone..."

"Yeah, and?" he continued hotly.

"...and you picked _her_," she finished, shooting a funny look at Zoe.

A series of revelations hit him like brick walls in their own right.

He was a warlock. Zoe was a witch.

Zoe was very pretty.

Zoe was very, _very_ pretty.

Violet was a horrible person.

Zoe was a wonderful person.

He never liked Violet at all, and if he did, it was purely a physical attraction, maybe curiousity.

It'd been Zoe all along.

"Oh my God," Madison said again, as if reading his mind.

"Oh my God," Nan echoed, actually reading his mind.

"Wait, what? I just said that."

"No, Madison, you don't get it yet. You don't get it!"

"Get what, exactly?"

"Kyle."

"What about him, Nan?"

"He's been fawning over Violet to make Zoe _jealous_."

Silence fell between the five students of Miss Robichaux's.

"Oh my God," Kyle repeated.

Zoe's laughter filled the room, and it occurred to him how much he loved that sound. He instinctively grabbed her hand tightly, as if he was afraid she would run away from him. She immediately understood his intentions and gave him a gentle squeeze.

"I'm not going anywhere," Zoe told him firmly, "I'm staying with you, right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Just then, a sky-high Violet stumbled through the door with someone else's powdery lips against her neck, her twig-like legs wrapped firmly around his waist. Zoe recognised the boy as the one from the hallway she'd ditched earlier. Complex emotions rushed through all of them as Violet opened her eyes and saw them all sitting there, watching her. She scrambled away from Charlie, hitting the floor in an awkward manner akin to the way she'd fallen on their first day of school. Kyle squeezed his eyes shut as he processed the scene in front of them, breaths deepening in an effort to calm himself, hand still gripping tight onto Zoe's.

"Mind explaining what just happened?" he asked dryly.

Violet's face contorted until she looked like she was going to cry, looking back at Charlie who had passed out on the floor, not unlike the way Kyle had earlier.

"Oh no, don't you dare," Kyle spat at her. "You don't get to cry, you crack whore. You're going to tell me why the fuck Charlie was halfway inside you, and then you're going to get fucking lost or whatever, okay?"

"Kyle-"

"_Do you have something to say_, Violet?" he cut her off furiously.

"I just... I just wanted to get you back for the thing with Zoe, you're no better, really-"

"We were drunk in love, Vi," he informed her grimly. "Did you really think you were the only one for me? That you were the one for me at all? What the fuck are you doing?! Get me back? This isn't a game of tag, Vi, it's a goddamn relationship – and you know what? This one's over!"

Violet's hands balled into hard fists as she flinched at his words.

"I was looking for you," Violet blurted, voice shaking from her high and from her feelings, "I was looking for _you_, I was going to make sure _you_ were okay and he was there, Charlie was actually there for me, unlike you, and we did some lines off the toilet seat and he said he could make me forget."

* * *

><p><em>Zoe Benson<em>

Zoe bit down hard on her lower lip as Violet continued to gush, words barely distinguishable from the fever pitch the cocaine had brought on.

"You were the one that came to _me _when we first met, you awful bastard," Violet continued, sobbing hard, the breaths coming heavy and close together.

"You said you couldn't stop thinking about me, that I was the one you wanted, but it was never me, was it? You insensitive son of a bitch! Think you can do that to me and get away with it?"

Zoe shrank against Kyle, beginning to fear the dangerousness in Violet's voice. But mostly, the thing that scared her wasn't the sound of her best friend's furious words. It was the realisation that Violet now had nothing left to lose, except maybe her abilities. Kyle tucked her against himself protectively, placing his chin on the top of her head.

"I'm really going to kill you now, Zoe," the honey blonde witch threatened manically. "I'm going to fucking choke you out and slit your pretty little throat. And you know what else? I'm going to fucking _burn_ you so you never come back!"

Spit flew from her mouth as she moved in a frenzy, lunging towards Zoe.

"No!" Kyle cried, grabbing Violet by the shoulders and throwing her to the floor.

"Wow, I like it rough, Kyle!" she mocked, insanity dancing in her dilated pupils.

"Shut up, Violet. You're high as hella and only took a half a pill. So understandably, my anaconda don't want none right now."

"Why don't you make me shut up, sweetheart? Why don't I pretty myself up for you and spread my legs just like Zoe used to do for Kit-"

_Whack!_ Zoe's knuckles collided with Violet's jaw with a sickening slap of skin. She hit the floor ungracefully, and the witches left the house without her in cold silence.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN PS: LOL, trust Kyle to introduce Nicki Minaj humour when things get tense. Also, that's gotta hurt. Did Violet go too far, or is it a mix of the coke and what Kyle and Zoe did to her? Do you think it's justified? Leave your thoughts in the reviews!**_


	9. It Was Consensual (Part 1)

_**A/N: It's another two parter! Also holy fucking cow that finale crushed my soul. Welcome all TBWITches to chapter nine, where all is not exactly forgiven. Or forgotten. Except maybe Violet, because they left her at the party, haha. Anyway, that's not funny. Don't leave people at parties, kids. It's not safe. But I digress – this chapter will muddle up your feelings for everyone involved and make you remember that people will be people and won't always live up to your expectations or be limited by them. And because we are talking about feelings and the past, I'll try to keep it short. Even though Kyle is a total intellectual cutie. Keep the inboxes coming guys! Love you all.**_

* * *

><p><em>Kyle Spencer<em>

"Suddenly I'm not so sure I got all the beer outta me."

"Don't be like that, Kyle. That's just how it is. I'm telling the truth."

"I'm not sayin' you aren't, I'm just saying it's... surprising, is all."

Zoe looked up at him from her battered John Green novel as he exhaled heavily, overwhelmed by the conversation they'd had once arriving back at the academy from the party. As soon as they had gotten up the stairs, Kyle flung open the door to her bedroom telekinetically and they both collapsed on the bed, where she had told him about Violet's past.

"Can you just... can you tell me again?" he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose and frowning in concentration.

"Okay," Zoe answered simply before relaunching into her tale.

* * *

><p><em>Zoe Benson<em>

"About six months ago, after the whole ordeal with Kit I just told you about, I went to the police station to make an official statement. I was nervous, because they said my testimony would be used in court, and there was all this waiting around. So I thought Violet should come along and keep me company. We waited for ages until I was called in. They said it would only take a couple hours..."

She grimaced at the memory.

"Turns out after they got my statement, they wanted to bring me in for questioning. I stayed at the station for the better part of the entire night. Just because I was there with him, all of a sudden I was a suspected accomplice to Grace's murder-"

"Who's Grace again?"

"The French one. The one Alma killed. Anyway, as I was saying, they brought me in for questioning and because they couldn't find any evidence of me being involved and the fact I happened upon a good attorney, they let me go the next day."

"That's pretty shitty of them, to blame you like that," Kyle remarked passionately, wrapping his arms around her. He always seemed to have his arms around her at that point in time.

"Very sweet, Kyle, but I was there - and as Kit's... lover, I guess I can see how I might've had a motive. I mean, I ain't going to lie. It _was_ a convenient ending for me, with both Alma and Grace gone."

Zoe's eyes seemed to glaze over as she reflected on the possibilities of being with Kit now, without either of his wives to get between them. Kyle seemed to pick up on this with a certain amount of irritation, and interrupted her line of thought.

"You should probably go on with your story. It's starting to come together for me. And oh, what about that Tate guy you mentioned before? You never told me what went down with him."

"Ah, Tate," she responded almost dreamily, running a hand through her silken chestnut blonde hair with a smile.

The sight of her smiling in front of him made his heart swell. Kyle couldn't help but kiss her, soft and chaste.

"Well, by the time I got out, Violet was waiting at my house in the living room. He was there, holding her hand in the waiting room. Arm around her and everything. I'd never seen Violet hit it off with someone so fast or so well before, not even with you," Zoe teased, poking him in the chest.

"Not even as well as me with you?" he quizzed, eyes lighting up with mirth.

"No, not even us, sweetheart. It was like he was a goddamn pick-up artist. I mean, he's obviously hot, there was no doubt about that at the time. Violet had just got her license and said something about the feministic value in a woman driving a man home, and I didn't think much of it because that's just such a Violet thing to say. But she never offers to drive people, except for me. Which is when it hit me – whatever she liked so much about this guy, it was worth breaking social gender conventions for. One of the things Violet advocates but never actually does anything about. But for whatever reason, he just sort of waited until we fell asleep before he disappeared, rather than taking up on her offer. But he left his number on the coffee table, and just like that, they started dating."

* * *

><p><em>Kyle Spencer<em>

"Damn."

"Yeah, damn."

"Huh. Why didn't Tate just let her drive? That actually sounds like a kick-ass thing for her to do."

"Yeah, but turns out he's a spirit trapped inside the house Violet used to live in, because he was 'accidentally' murdered by police after shooting up our school in '94. So alongside it actually being his home too, he grew up in a different time, so he's a big believer in gender roles and heteronormativity and shit. Crazy, huh?"

"But you said earlier, when we were in the car – he was only sixteen, right? It's twenty-fifteen. That means he's like... what, thirty-seven now? That's nearly forty! Didn't know Violet was into that kind of thing," Kyle replied with mild shock.

"Well it's not like he's actually that old, 'cause he died when he was sixteen. I doubt they realised he's nearly old enough to be her father. And he certainly doesn't look like it, if you know what I mean-"

"That doesn't change things Zoe, ugh! Ghost pedophilia is so not cool."

"I'm just saying! You should be happy I have such good taste in men. And it's _not_ – oh my God, Kyle, it's not pedophilia. One, it was consensual! I'm pretty sure she still loves him, even now, even after he banged Vivian and murdered all those people. Two, it's only a difference of... like, twenty-one years. There's worse, right?"

"Whatever, babe."

He fell back on the bed in exhaustion, processing the events of the party, Violet's past and his budding relationship with Zoe.

"It's been a crazy night," Kyle stated, taking her hand in his.

She curled up next him and nodded against his chest as faint rays of morning light began to escape over the horizon.

"It has," she agreed, words slurring with sleepiness. "But Kyle, what are we doing? First the thing on the dancefloor, then the making out, then Charlie? Where does that leave Violet?"

"I don't know," he admitted, "but what I do know is that I really like you, Zoe, I do. And what we did was wrong. It's still wrong. If we think about it – we always had this amazing chemistry between us, and it always seemed... inevitable. Like the tide and the gentle shore. That's you, Zoe. The shore. Because I'll always come back to you, no matter what. It's like my heart is the moon, pulling me back to you no matter what my head says. And I don't even care, because I love you more than I could ever worry about what anyone else thinks."

Zoe's heart swelled at his words. Placing her hands on his chest, she pressed her lips against his.

"You know, I'm not even scared about those crazy ghosts anymore, because you're here. And you'll look after me if I get hurt by bad spirits in our special Clairaudience class tonight," she replied affectionately.

He grinned down at her.

"Wait, wait, wait," Kyle began suddenly, sitting up. "If all those ghosts can come out on Halloween, and Violet left them in a right state... They'll be after her. Today."

"Shit, you're right. Tate probably hates her for leaving him there after that suicide pact thing they made. Never mind his buddy Casper-the-friendly-doctor-Montgomery. They're real tight, you know."

"But why would he make a suicide pact with her if he's already dead? Is that a thing? Can you die after dying?"

"They'll want to take her back to the house so she can die there!"

"Oh fuck!"

"We've gotta get Violet home, Kyle! Now!"


	10. It Was (Not) Consensual (Part 2)

_**A/N: Part two of the second two-parter! Here we are, TBWITches. Welcome to chapter TEN! So this two-parter has been the mostly filler-type dialogue kind (which I know some of ya'll actually really like so here you go), with some crazy shit in line for the second part. Is Violet okay? What's up with Kyle and Zoe being destined for one another all of a sudden? And most importantly, WHO MISSES KIT AND TATE? I do.**_

_**Also I've been trying to steer away from first person, because I do it a lot, but something goes down in this chapter that just demands to be experienced in first person. I'm sorry about that thing by the way, because it will probs break your heart. And I am totally Moffat when it comes to these things. Enjoy Fiona's astonishing talents, Nan feels, Violet feels, and many cries for everyone.**_

* * *

><p><em>Zoe Benson<em>

When they pulled into the driveway of Kappa Lambda Gamma House, it was nearly five in the morning. The sun had just peeked over the horizon and it was officially Halloween day. Zoe and Kyle stepped inside, hand in hand, avoiding the unconcious bodies sprawled clumsily on the floor. The party had mostly died down except for the occasional squeal and vomit noises from upstairs. They entered the hall cautiously, checking around for any malevolent spirits waiting to attack, but the house was dead silent.

And something felt very wrong about it.

"Kyle?" Zoe whispered, coming to a halt at the foot of the staircase.

"What is it, babe?" he replied gently.

"Do you feel that?"

"The questionable fluids on the carpet?"

"What – no, that's disgusting! I mean, can you _feel_ what I'm feeling?"

"Oh, that ominous tingly feeling? The kind you get watching a horror movie? Yeah."

"I knew it. We should call Nan. She'll know what to do."

* * *

><p><em>Kyle Spencer<em>

Just then, his phone rang.

"Whoever this is, I really gotta call you back-"

"Kyle it's Nan."

"Nan? I never gave you my number."

"You didn't have to. It's urgent, okay, it's really bad!"

"Wait, what's happening?"

"You can't go up there, you hear me? Don't move!" the clairvoyant screamed into the phone.

"Nan, what's going on?"

"It's about Violet, Kyle, something's gone wrong. Just don't go upstairs. I'm on my way, I'm bringing Queenie, Cordelia, Myrtle, Fiona and Madison with me. Promise me you two will stay where you are."

"Uh, ok, but-"

"Promise me, Kyle!"

"Alright, I promise!"

The line went dead.

* * *

><p><strong>FIVE HOURS EARLIER<strong>

_Violet Harmon's POV_

The cocaine's wearing off. I'm starting to regret taking up on Charlie's offer right after hitting a blunt. The buzz is gone and I just feel like shit. Everything feels distant, but so real and close at the same time in a frightening way. I can barely make it up the stairs, and there's some fucking crazy Catholic guy I met earlier screaming at me, something about how witches are devil worshippers, that it's his job on Earth to purge us. That our work has no place in this house. He feels distant too. I want to keep it that way, and push him down the stairs telepathically in dismissal. Drunk girls are screaming all around me and I just want them to shut up, to give me some peace from this fucking jungle of a house so I can get up the damn stairs and pass out like a basic bitch. An impulse fills me then, to burn the stupid tartan curtains because they remind me of Myrtle Snow. "I'm just _mad_ for tartan," she'd said once. Stupid, pretentious witch-bitch.

The curtains go up in flames.

I'm about halfway up the staircase now, trying to force my lethargic legs to move and I start to think that maybe that drink the crazy Catholic guy gave me wasn't just a cider. The dull weight of helplessness sits on my chest and I give up, slumping against the banister. Looking at the shit-eating grins of past fraternity brothers, I want to kill them all. Just stab the stupid bastards to fucking death.

The frames fall off the walls, clattering down the stairs beside me.

My head is slipping away from me and that's when the fear really hits, because my hands have gone horribly numb. I'm so very, very vulnerable and it's scaring me. Catholic guy is back with two grinning friends and they're accompanied by flashes of bright white light. They're taking pictures of me, as exposed and as indecent as I am.

"You hear the clocks chiming, devil girl? It's witching hour!" one of them taunts.

Their laughter is echoing around my head and it hurts, it really hurts. I just want to slip away to the quiet. It's so close to me now, the nothingness. My eyelids get heavier, and every blink brings me closer to something else.

"It's time for the demon to go back to where it came from," Catholic guy whispers.

He pulls out something shiny, looking at his friends in a blurred motion, eyes glowing with triumph. I want to wipe the smirk off his face.

I rip the teeth out of his gums with an echoing shriek and collapse against the wall.

He screams at me and a burning pain rips through my chest, eating away at everything around me, pushing me like a bully towards the quiet. I can hear myself crying somewhere, somewhere distant and cold. Somewhere I don't want to be. His friends take turns planting more blooms of pain inside me, each increasingly blurry plunging motion coming hand-in-hand with more pain. It feels like I am being burned alive in this somnambulist state.

The nothingness is right in front of me now, and I reach out to it in my mind. It's whispering promises of peace, of escape, and I believe it.

The pain fades away to black.

* * *

><p><em>Zoe Benson<em>

By the time Nan bursted through the door with the others, all in last night's clothes with grim expressions, police sirens had begun reverbrating around the street.

"Quickly, quickly! Get up the stairs! They tried to... to..."

The clairvoyant dissolved into tears, falling back against a sullen Madison. The child star wrapped her arms around Nan in a rare display of sympathy.

"We have to help her," she choked, struggling against Madison's arms, "We have to get her across..."

Kyle nodded and dragged Zoe up the stairs with him, the others following close behind. Once they reached the doorway to the room they had performed the levitation spell in, he gestured for a halt. Nan stomped her foot impatiently.

"Kyle, we can't – there's no time..."

"Nan, do you know what's behind those doors?" he asked carefully, looking her dead in the eyes.

"I do, I do, I've _seen her_ Kyle, there was so much pain. I felt everything, I felt what she felt. I know what they did to her," Nan sobbed, trembling against a tearful Madison.

"I don't want Zoe to see this," he informed them woodenly, letting go of his girlfriend's hand.

"No!" Zoe protested, "Violet's my... she was my only friend, Kyle, I... I need to see her, goddammit!"

She began to weep bitterly.

"You can't..." Kyle began softly, taking her hand again and pressing his lips to her fingers, "We can't use past tense. We haven't seen what's happened yet. And even when we do, no matter what we see behind those doors, I need you to stay strong for Violet. Okay?"

Zoe wiped her eyes angrily, eyeliner streaking across her cheeks. Even like this, a sad mess, face covered in black and pink smudges, he thought she was beautiful.

"Can you do that for me, Zoe?" he asked again, pulling her closer.

"Yeah," she managed. Her voice sounded watery and unsure, but her eyes were blazing.

Inhaling shakily, Nan turned the brass handle and flung the door open.

The sight before them looked like it fell straight out of a supernatural horror film. Two smudged pentagrams had been drawn on the floor, one by the fireplace and one by the window. Knowing one of them was theirs, they passed the fireplace without a second thought and crept towards the window which was being obscured by large pieces of furniture. Blood splatters coated the beige sofa in front of them, and Zoe's gut twisted with dread. Madison scrunched up her nose and shut her eyes in concentration as she lifted a shaking hand to begin the healing process. The sofa flew to the side, and there Violet lay. Cordelia fell against her mother, sliding to the floor in tears.

Violet was covered in her own blood and gore, her insides torn out and spilling across the floor. Her blank brown eyes stared up at the ceiling, brows pushed together in an expression of pure torture, her limbs skewed at unnatural angles like she'd been dumped unceremoniously on the floor. Pools of blood had gathered around her, had poured out of her chest, oozed from her stomach and dripped from her open mouth.

"She should never have gone to the goddamn party," Cordelia whimpered. "I just shouldn't have let her go, we all know what she does at these things, I shouldn't have let her. She should've stayed with me-"

"Come on, Delia, pull yourself together. There's no way any of us could've known what was going to happen – except Nan, I guess. Goddammit, girl, you had one job. But anyway, the police are downstairs and we need to think about what we need to do."

"You heartless bitch! A witch has been killed and you want to talk deception tactics?"

"We're doing this for _Violet_, Delia. We need to stay strong, like the young man said. For her. For _us_," Fiona hissed.

Kyle took a deep breath and looked at Cordelia.

"She's right. We've got work to do, Missus Foxx. And not a long time to get it done," he told her.

"What are you talking about?" Zoe asked, looking between them frantically. "You can't get rid of her body now, there are officers downstairs with stigma against us and _guns_-"

"Shut up, babe. I'm sorry, but like I said – we have things to do. You need to leave."

"What the hell?"

"I'm sorry, I love you. Myrtle, can you help her outside? Bring Fiona, talk to the officers... make them forget."

The flamboyant redhead nodded in understanding and guided Zoe back through the doorway, Fiona slinking across the room behind them in her Chanel dress and glossy Prada stilettos.

* * *

><p><em>Fiona Goode<em>

"Why hello there, officer."

She used every audiokinesis skill she'd ever learned to make her voice sound alluring to them, and it worked. A wobbly smile spread across the all-American forty-something policeman's face as he strode over to meet her.

"Ma'am, I'm afraid you're going to have to leave the premises. May I ask what you're doing at a crime scene with a crying teenager and... that?" he asked while gesturing at Myrtle.

The haute couture-loving witch turned her nose up at him in disdain.

"Look," Fiona began flirtatiously, "how about you take yourself and all your little forensic buddies back on over to the station where you're going to forget all about this... incident... and then you're going to go on to the next case and do whatever it is that you fools do for a living. That sound good?"

He nodded dumbly with a grin and turned to leave.

"That was a bad idea, Fiona dear," Myrtle warned half-heartedly.

"Oh, what the hell would you know, Vivienne Westwood?" the Supreme retorted.

"You took away his free will!" the teacher shrieked. "That by its nature goes against the Wiccan rede, invokes the threefold law and is – dare I say it – categorised among black magic!"

Fiona snorted with laughter as Zoe sat down numbly.

"You know the threefold law is a bunch of horse shit, right?"

"Blasphemy! You speak terrible lies!"

"The only thing blasphemous or terrible around here is your high fashion faux pas. That's right, I went there. Sit your ass down, Molly Weasley."

Zoe covered her mouth awkwardly in an effort not to laugh.

"Let it out, Zoe," Fiona told her, "No point bursting a blood vessel over my inevitable sass."

The young witch smiled timidly up at her.

"If I may, Miss Fiona, you put Queenie to shame."

The Supreme returned her smile graciously before straightening out her facial expression.

"We mustn't waste time, now. The officers are gone, but that doesn't change what's going on. Violet's halfway back by now, so Zoe here should probably be there for when she wakes up," she instructed Myrtle.

"Halfway back? Waking up? What are you saying?" Zoe exclaimed incredulously to Myrtle.

"Oh, _do_ catch up, darling," Myrtle groaned. "We're bringing her back to life."


	11. Such Sweet Nothing

_**A/N: Welcome back TBWITches! Chapter eleven is upon us! And oh my, Violet's coming with us. Remember when I asked who misses Tate? Well... it's Halloween ;) Who feels like getting feels? And how do we feel about more present tense first person POV? Props to NotMarge for inspiring me on the Zyle front with her incredible piece 'In The Drowning Pool', also massive kudos to Jurana Keri for her accuracy in her own works inspiring this one! You two sustain me! Enjoy.**_

_**SERIOUS LANGUAGE WARNING. But you already knew that, because Violet's in this story.**_

* * *

><p><em>Violet Harmon's POV<em>

I don't know where I am at first. I'm dead, that's for sure, but I'm not staring up at sunny skies, not even the frat house ceiling. Everything is fuzzy, like someone with glasses waking up without them on. Looking around and shaking my head until my vision clears, my dead guts fill with anticipation. Cold grey stone for stairs. Dusty, cobwebbed windows. Steel medical tools glinting in their shelves. Fetus jars.

I'm in the Murder House basement, and I came here for one reason only.

"Tate," I croak, tears already rushing to my eyes. "Tate I'm here now. They killed me. They killed me and I came back for you, just like we said. Just like I promised."

And then he's there, all floppy peroxide hair and scorchingly dark eyes, leaning against the banister from the bottom step.

"Six months, Violet," he states bitterly and shakes his head in disbelief.

"I know darling, I know, and I'm _sorry_-"

"Sorry don't mean jackshit anymore. _Six. Months_. Half a year of waiting for you like a damn fool, thinking you'd turn right round and come back to me! But you just left me! And now..."

Tate grabs at his hair desperately, trying to quell the tears of frustration I know are prickling at his eyes. His amazing, all-absorbing eyes. Kyle flashes through my mind, and I shake it away. That asshole pales next to my Tate.

"How did I get here?" I inquire timidly.

He looks down at his ratty Converse in something akin to regret.

"The house, it felt you fading. I felt you fading. Because it's Halloween today, and I just... I could never leave you there. All alone in the dark of someone else's party. You died crying. I held you. You were safe. You died... loved."

His words strike a long-forgotten chord in my heart. I scramble awkwardly to my feet and he appears next to me, hand around my waist, helping me up. I fall against him with a sigh, revelling in his familiar warmth. There's a niggling feeling now, a feeling I shouldn't be doing this, that I have somewhere I need to be. That confuses me – I'm dead, I don't have anywhere else to be.

"Tate?" I ask quietly, looking at him from his chest.

"Yeah, Vi?"

"Can you hear those voices?"

"What voices?"

"I don't know, I guess I thought I heard something."

"It's probably the house. Everyone knows you're here now. You'll be safe with me, I promise."

"I fucking love you, Tate Langdon. I still do."

"And I never stopped, Violet Harmon."

* * *

><p><em>Kyle Spencer<em>

"Come on, Violet! Wake up, wake up, wake up!" he begged as he continued to perform strong compressions on the young witch's chest, looking back and forth between Cordelia's worry-stricken face and Nan's eyes that were burning with concentration, attempting to divine the result of this event. Queenie held out her hands over Violet's still body, radiating life energy as strongly as she could. Zoe burst through the doors with Myrtle and Fiona at her side, looking beautiful to the point of distraction, having washed her face and cleaned up last night's dress. He spared her a grim smile of acknowledgement before pumping hard one last time. Violet shot up, gasping and choking for breath, before vomitting chunky black fluid all over the carpet around her.

"Urnghhh..." she moaned, pressing a hand to her head as black liquid continued to ooze from the corner of her mouth. "How much crack did I do last night?"

Everyone in the room whooped for joy and relief, surrounding her with questions.

"Are you okay?"

"Did you see the light?"

"Was it just like Descensum?"

"Where did you go?"

"Everybody shut up... I'm about to pass the fuck out," Violet told them, flopping back down onto the ground weakly. Her demand was quickly met as she shut her eyes and went to sleep.

Kyle chuckled lightly, bringing Zoe to his side.

"Well at least she died before she could properly crash. Coke's a bitch after the high," Madison smirked.

"Madison!" Cordelia reprimanded.

"Just tellin' it like it is, Missus Foxx."

"She's gonna need some sleep after what just happened," Kyle murmured to Zoe.

"Yeah, no doubt. Coming back from the dead is hard work," she replied airily.

"Well, not just that," Nan added, "she went somewhere. The spirits of the house say she went somewhere she wasn't meant to go."

The nausea of realisation washed through Kyle as he processed the meaning of her words.

"Oh hell," Zoe groaned, leaning against him in sheer emotional and physical exhaustion. "She tried to damn herself to an eternity in the Murder House."

Kyle slumped against her, completely drained from his healing efforts on Violet despite having so little training to pull from.

"We can't let her go back," he mumbled into Zoe's hair.

"No, we can't," she agreed. "Or Tate's going to kill her."

Everyone moved to leave the room, but Zoe stayed. Zoe always stayed when it came to Violet.

* * *

><p><em>Violet Harmon's POV<em>

Just like that goddamn Taylor Swift song I love, everything has changed. I can literally feel the separation of my spirit from my body. You see, my spirit's with him. My spirit belongs with Tate, in that creepy old house.

I regret nothing.

I don't regret handing him my virginity on a bloodstained platter, sand from the beach pouring out of places it shouldn't be for days afterward. I'd gladly relive the day I met Beau and he taught me how to make them all go away when it gets a little too much. He taught me about my own power, how not to be afraid of my own power, but to embrace it.

"I used to think you were like me. You were attracted to the darkness. But, Tate you are the darkness."

I like the sound of my own words to him knocking around my skull like electricity in a plasma ball. I like it more than the sound of living.

I can't understand my attraction to Kyle, not a single bit. Sure, he looks a lot like Tate, but as Myrtle's rich bitch older sister Gloria says, hindsight is 20/20. Kyle was practically made for Zoe. But it still feels like a part of Tate lives in him. Or a part of Kyle lives in Tate. I can't be sure. Nan would know.

I know how it's meant to go now. I need to make good on that promise I made with Tate.

My eyes snap open.

* * *

><p><em>Zoe Benson<em>

"Violet, sweetheart. You're okay now," she said soothingly, stroking a gentle hand over her best friend's forehead.

Tears crawled down Violet's cheeks and into her honey blonde hair.

"Zoe," she choked, "Zoe, I forgive you. I understand now. I understand everything."

Both girls began to sob heavily, cradling each other in that silent, dust-bitten room.

"Vi, I'm so sorry. For everything. Kyle was yours and I should've waited."

"No, no, I'm sorry. I knew you liked him from the moment he walked into our room. I was standing outside when I heard you two talking about that article, and I knew you two were perfect for each other. But please, Zoe, you have to understand – I lost Tate, and you lost Kit, but you got away unscathed. I still lost him. Tate's still looking for me, he took my spirit back to the house. If he doesn't give it back to me, I'll die again before sundown."

"Fuck!" Zoe swore tearfully, putting her face in her hands. "I'm not losing you again, Vi. I lost you once, and that was enough."

"We need to go back to the house. Today."

"And you'll live? You swear you're gonna come straight back for us? 'Cause he's a bad man, you know what staying there means."

"I – of course, Zoe. Of course."

And Zoe believed her.


End file.
